Sick
by RogueRedirection
Summary: High School AU. Gabriel is sick and Dean decides to help him out. However, he may get more trouble than he bargained for. M rating is just for violence right now, but who knows what could happen?
1. Chapter 1

This initially started as an RP on Omegle between me and TheMarauderBandit. For reasons, we just kind of stopped writing it together, but I liked where it was going and I decided to continue it myself. In this chapter she is writing Gabe and I'm writing Dean. I marked the place where we stopped going back and forth in the next chapter. The highschool AU and making Gabe sick were all her idea. I really enjoyed her writing and wanted to make sure she got the credit she deserves. That said, enjoy!

It was raining, and there were people crowded everywhere—very literally _everywhere_. Gabriel couldn't remember a time in his life where he had more desperately wanted to be away from the hallways, be away from the chaos that was only fueling the pounding in his head, fueling the hacking coughs that racked him, and the overall illness that seemed to simply surround him; stumbling a bit, as he shivered, miserably sniffling, and just wishing that he could steal away with a bag of cough drops (cherry-flavored, ideally), and hide somewhere dark and quiet. It wasn't until he'd crashed into someone taller than him (who wasn't, honestly?) that he woke up slightly, stumbling away with an apology, shivering slightly. And it wasn't until then, that he realized it was one of those Winchesters. Fan-freaking-tastic.

"Oh, sorry short-stack. Didn't see you there." said Dean, half turning to face the clearly ailing student whom he had just bumped. "Whoa, hey, you okay?" he asked, slightly startled at Gabriel's paler-than-normal complexion. He seemed to ooze with the familiar and miserable aura of someone who was definitely too sick to be in school.

Pressing a tight arm towards his abdomen, burning with flaring pain and churning slightly, at the contact, he unintentionally stumbled over, crashing into the lockers, as his vision blurred, and his world went spinning wildly, turning and violently twisting around. Clenching his eyes shut, he heaved out cough after cough, rattling in his chest, before he managed to compose himself, drawing a rattled breath. "Obviously," Gabriel muttered quietly, feeling as though he'd just swallowed shards of glass. Pain pulsed in his ears, head throbbing, skull tightening. "No, as a matter of fact, I'm really not."

Dean edged forward hesitantly. He seemed not to know whether to help hold the poor guy up or to just keep back and avoid contamination. "Um, well, did you go to the nurse yet? You look terrible." he remarked, stepping out of the way of a passing group of students to Gabriel's side.

A glare was shot up in his direction, setting his jaw in silent anger, "Thanks, because that's what _everyone_ likes to hear." Moving forward, his shoved past Dean, juggling his books in one arm, while using the sleeve of his jacket (one of many, yet he still managed to shiver slightly) to run over his nose, as he gave a miserable sniffle, keeping his head down. If he could remember correctly, he had his next class with that jerk, but he was slightly hoping Dean wouldn't notice. Of course, in his condition, it couldn't be said that Gabriel was having the best luck of his life.

"Whoa, hey! You're not seriously going to go to class like that, are you?" exclaimed Dean, tagging along after him. "I thought you looked familiar. You're in my math class, right?" he asked, falling into stride alongside Gabriel. "Dude, just do us all a favor and go to the nurse. I'll tell Mr. Hudson why you aren't there if you want. You know, so he doesn't mark you absent."

Another sharp stare, and he narrowed his eyebrows at this guy- he just couldn't mind his own business, could he? No, he had to get on Gabriel's nerves- fantastic. "Listen, I've already drank my weight in medicine, okay, and taken at last two bottles of pills, and yet I'm still not getting better- you think the nurse can help? Yeah, right. Okay. Great. Great plan. I'll just go down to her, tell her I'm feeling sick, and she'll give me _more_ medicine, and then send me back to class." Flinching, as another fit hit him, he shook his head slowly at Dean. "I'm fine," he managed out, between lapses of coughs, which were only, in reality a few minutes apart, wearing at his already exhausted stature.

"Pft- yeah. You look peachy." said Dean sarcastically as they turned down the hallway to the mathematics department. He reflexively put a hand up to Gabriel's back to steady him as his coughing seizure racked his body. Dean gently pushed him to the side of the hall to keep him out of the way of the steady stream of people who would trample him by accident if he stopped for too long. "Look, I know that leaking your germs everywhere is really important to you, but seriously, man, go home. If you sit in class we both know you're going to just be coughing and hacking and sneezing and blowing your nose obnoxiously the whole time. You may as well just leave now and avoid the glares and death threats while you can."

Falling against the wall, he shuddered, shivers rolling down his back, as he huddled over slightly, hugging himself, his sleeves falling over his hands, as he curled inward, teeth chattering- "Look, I dunno if you've noticed, but there's a reason I'm here, honestly, there is- it's not just to piss idiots like you off, as well as everyone else in this building, okay? It's gotta mean something's pretty bad at home when you'd rather nearly collapse in the school hallways than go home to face your parents, or for that matter, your brothers, who are absolute, and utterly terrifying whenever you're not at school." Sure, Dean was being nice to him, but Gabriel wasn't understanding why he /couldn't/ just let it go. "I'll be quiet... promise."

Dean looked skeptical as he approached the classroom door. Just as Gabriel was reaching for the doorknob, Dean pushed him aside and yanked the door open himself, poking just his head inside and using the rest of his body to block the door. "Hey, Mr. Hudson!" said Dean, an obnoxiously fake smile decorating at least half his face. "So listen, Gabe-" he pulled Gabriel by his shirt into the sliver of the doorway "And I were both really excited to learn about..." he squinted at the board "... negative exponents today, but unfortunately he's really sick, so I'm gonna take him home. Okay? Okay. Thanks! Bye." he finished rapidly, slamming the door shut and pulling Gabriel down the now nearly-deserted hallway.

Following the much larger junior down the hall, stumbling and coughing weakly, entire body trembling, his grip on the books falling as he was jolted around by the front of his collar, hair plastered in strands towards his forehead, shining with sweat, as a fever began to grow. Not even having time to turn back for his binder, Gabriel was forced to follow Dean, every movement weighted, every breath forced and strained, so that at the speed they were walking, his lungs burned. "What... the hell... was that?" He managed out, shoving Dean away slightly, as if to say: 'I am capable of walking myself, thanks', though having every intention of running back to grab his books, and hide inside the classroom. "I barely even know you, what the-?"

Dean stopped, looking back at Gabriel, his books scattered on the floor. "Hey, what are you talking about? We know each other!" he said brightly, reaching down to gather up the fallen textbooks and notes. "We've suffered through math together for nearly a semester now! That makes us-" he furrowed his brow in concentration as he struggled to find the words "... math buddies?" he finished lamely, scooping up the books under one arm and grabbing the rest out of Gabriel's hands with the other. "Now come on, let's get you home. You'll thank me later." he said, starting back down the hall.

Trying to keep himself from falling behind, /desperately/ not wanting to go back to math class, but feeling he had no other choice, Gabriel eyed the staircase looming ahead of them warily- it'd been pain enough getting up them this morning, and with his coughs already rattling his lungs, world spinning slightly, he wasn't sure just how long he'd make it. "Taking it a little fast for math buddies, dont'cha think?" Though he was teasing, his voice remained quiet, almost solemn, though there was a flash of arrogance in his eyes. "Usually we go to the other's house at around 'we're-making-a-lame-project-in-science-together stage." Before he could even think to speak again, he struggled to find his feet, stumbling for what seemed like the millionth time, head pounding and throbbing, as he unintentionally sunk to a crouch, shivering, and flinching; it wasn't long, before he was burning with embarrassment, pulling himself up, despite the double vision.

Dean stopped again and turned back, the concern plain on his face for a moment before he replaced it with a practiced half-smirk, trying to appear light-hearted. "Well, desperate times call for desperate measures, right? We can pretend that we're making a project together in science if it'll make you feel more comfortable." he said, backtracking to where Gabriel was now hunched over on the ground. "Speaking of which-" Dean continued, shifting all of Gabriel's schoolwork into one arm and pushing the other under the smaller teen's arms to help him stand up. "You're definitely going to melt into a pathetic, nerdy little puddle if we don't get out of here soon. I can feel that fever from here. Come on, stair-time now." he said, leading Gabe toward the steps.

Swallowing thickly, the mere sting of his throat earning a wince, he attempted at his best to put as little weight on Dean as humanly possible, but even on a good day, Gabriel didn't have terribly good balance, and it was becoming harder and harder to simply focus. Damn it, this school was freezing- or was that just him. Stumbling rapidly down the steps, he gripped tight towards the railing, until they finally reached the bottom level, and he huddled over, subconsciously just drawing his many jackets tight around him; dark, bruise-like shadows that rounded his eyes, exhausted and glazed with his rising fever, were becoming more and more obvious, contrasting sharply with the sickly-grey of his skin, which lost color every time he hacked... which was a lot. "I'm not sure I want to even _pretend_ I'm working on a project with you- I've heard of your grades, Winchester, who's the pathetic one now?"

"Whoa, hey that's getting a little personal, don't you think? And I like that my report cards has... variety. Too much of one letter makes me nervous anyway. I like to mix things up." They stepped over the threshold of the front door and started towards the parking lot. "For once having to take Sammy to debate practice at ungodly early hours in the morning pays off! I parked close today." he said, smiling at the dark vintage impala in the front row.

A small smirk passed over his lips, as he was forced forward, flinching against the crippling light, as the sun beat down on him; a wave of heat passed over, forcing another round of shudders, with spurred a fit of coughs, as well as a few vicious sneezes. Disgruntled at the chain reaction, he only hugged himself, trying to keep it from happening again- which naturally only forced another few shudders, as well as the racking coughs, which just sounded _horrid_. Yeah, they were bad, but the sound wasn't even half as terrible as how crappy it made him feel. Dragging himself along by the time they made it to the car, he barely had enough energy to fire back, swaying a bit, as he collapsed against the door of the impala, barely catching himself before he could fall. "That's a very creative way of simply saying you're too imbecilic to pass Honors Science and English. If I'm not mistaken, you have more than enough Fs."

"And you know what else is creative, Gabe? The seemingly endless ways that you find to annoy me. Now get in." Dean opened the passenger's side door of the impala and tossed the armload of books haphazardly into the back seat.


	2. Chapter 2

Like I said last chapter, this story was initially an RP between myself and TheMarauderBandit on Omegle. We stopped writing it together, but I liked where it was going and decided to continue it myself. She is writing Gabe in this chapter and I am writing Dean. I marked with ** the place in this chapter where we stop writing together. Past that point, all the writing is me flying solo. Enjoy!

There wasn't enough energy left in him, an exhausted state of being, masked with a film of exhaustion and illness, to even so much as snap at Dean for being insensitive with his belongings, simply collapsing onto the leather seat, dragging the door with him. He didn't even speak, as he drew his knees to his chest, with a shuddering breath, letting his head flop onto the window beside, eyes fluttering already. Dragging the seatbelt over his shoulder, hands fumbling for a minute, as he continued to shiver, he managed to buckle himself in, before falling limp, leaning back; breaths evened out, slightly, yet they remained ragged sounding, rattling and wheezing. "Why are you even doing this?"

Dean furrowed his brow as he buckled himself in, started the car, and backed up. They were out of the parking lot and half a mile down the road before he answered. "I've known that you're not living the dream at home for a while now, Gabe. It's obvious. The bruises, the black eyes. I don't even know how you've been managing to do so well in school with all the crap you must have to deal with at home. I dunno I just- I just can't watch you do it anymore." he said, unaware of how quiet his voice had gotten as he spoke.

Taking a sudden interest in the passing scenery, no matter how dizzy it made him, Gabriel averted his gaze, watching instead, as bushes sped by, in a blur. "I thought popular jocks like you didn't pay attention to small little, wimpy nerds like me- so what's up with you, huh? What makes you so different?" It was a stupid question, and Gabriel knew- he never meant to, but he _noticed _people. It was just kinda what he did, and he knew for a fact that Dean Winchester was a good guy- confused, but good. Tripping one kid as he walked down the cafeteria one day, and punching the jerks that dared threaten the same guy the very next. And Dean cared. But sniffled, and hiding his hands once again in his sleeves, he only drew into an impossibly small ball, burying his face in his arms, as his shoulder shook with the plaguing fits, making him positively _ache._

Dean turned his eyes from the road for a second to focus on the sick teen in the passenger seat. "Different?" he repeated, perplexed. Then he laughed "Honestly? Nothing. I'm _am_ just the average 'popular jock.' It's just that it seemed like the right thing to do is all. I know that I give people a hard time sometimes, but it's just for kicks. Maybe it makes me feel a little better about myself when I'm down. I know it's probably not healthy, but I don't mean it. Can't really help being a jerk I guess." he explained to the windshield.

A slight shuffle, as he shifted in the seat, only to flinch, though it went unnoticed by Dean, his face buried deep within the nestle of cloth he'd created, yet with every wave of heat, caused by a spike in his fever, which was growing rapidly, he only grew colder, and colder; he could feel heat burning on his forehead, but teeth chattering, he shuddered gently. Not gently enough. Like a blow to the stomach, the hacks hit, almost as violent as a seizure, as he bit back a groan, tears springing in his eyes. When he finally glanced up, there was really no different between the tears from the pressure of the violent, more-than-sickly-sounding coughs, and the sweat the plastered his clothes to his small, quivering frame. "You're not being a jerk right now, y'know- aside from the dragging me against my will out to your car."

"Well, you know now I kind of wish I hadn't. You're going to ruin the upholstery if you keep hacking like that. And I know you're sick or whatever, but I didn't see you putting up too much of a fuss. Ah-" he exclaimed sharply as he pulled into the driveway in front of a run-down southern-style house. The white-grey paint was peeling off the outside of the place in large chunks and the pillars holding up the roof over the less-than-stable porch sagged slightly, giving the house a distinct "worn-out" look, as if the house too had grown tired of putting up with Dean Winchester's tactless personality. "Home sweet home." he said, grinning.

Swallowing with difficulty, eyelids drooping slightly, as the illness began to wear on him, he looked up, chapped lips parted slightly, as he blinked slowly, the shadows growing and growing, every exhale laced with feeble wheezes, as he flinched. Sweat was now practically soaking him, as he muttered a single word, voice hoarse and utterly torn up. "Cozy." With that, he turned, as if to open the door, taking a few tries to actually get the handle, his vision doubling again- no, tripling. Standing slowly, he made, as if to take a step forward, only to have his knees lock underneath him. Flailing desperately, he managed to catch himself on the trunk of the impala, teeth chattering, looking as though he'd been standing in -40 degree weather for the past few hours.

Dean climbed out of the car, slamming the door shut hastily as he rushed over to catch Gabe, whom he was certain would surely pass out if left to his own devices a second longer. "Hey, c'mon stay with me now-" Dean pulled one of Gabe's arms around his shoulders again and steered them both toward the house. After a brief struggle with the porch steps, Dean impatiently unlocked the front door with one hand, kicking it inwards to reveal a disorderly kitchen that smelled distinctly of burned toast, although there was no toaster in sight. Dean dragged Gabe past the kitchen and into the living-room where he let him flop unceremoniously onto the single, ragged orange and yellow couch. "Hmm, let me go find some blankets." he said quickly, exiting through a hallway to the right. "Just lay down and try not to barf!" he shouted indistinctly from a room somewhere down the hall.

It wasn't exactly something he had all done and planned, but as soon as Dean had moved to catch him, he went limp, shivering, lips trembling. His simple 'cold' was growing much worse, and as Gabriel fought to weakly keep up with the much taller high-schooler, he found it increasingly more and more difficult to keep on his feet, much less stop the coughing, and completely disregarding his ever-growing migraine, that could rival and beat any hangover Dean had in his life any day. Finally entering the house, he managed to curl up in a ball, sniffling miserably, stomach knotting violently at the sickening smell of burnt food. "Much obliged," he muttered as a reply, unsure if Dean could hear him. He wasn't much in the mood for puking his guts up, as well as doing anything but simply curling up into a ball- which took up a little less then half the couch... Hey, he was small- and attempting to sleep. It'd been long while since he'd actually /slept/, really. And he was pretty sure Dean wasn't going to wake him by throwing him violently from where he lay, because shouting harshly how /everything/ was his fault. So he tried, falling into a half-asleep, rather feverish stupor, eyelids fluttering between open and closed, as he only continued to tremble, coughing and sneezing wildly.

Dean tromped back into the living room a minute later, his arms laden with an assortment of mismatched blankets. Upon seeing Gabriel curled up on the couch looking like he was barely conscious, Dean truly began to worry. Whatever this kid had, it wasn't good. Possibly the flu? Or mono? Strep? All three? Dean wondered if Gabe had the money to see a doctor. If his normal appearance at school was anything to go by, then he doubted it. Perhaps Dean could call for a doctor? But wait, he and Sammy had no money for a doctor either. And health insurance? Forget it. When he wasn't in school, Dean worked as much as he could at the auto-repair shop downtown. In fact he would be there now if it wasn't his day off. Whatever money he earned he used to pay the bills and for food for himself and his brother. Dean decided to worry about the doctor problem later. He took one of the blankets from the tangle in his arms and placed it over Gabe on the couch. He threw another one over him too just to be safe. The others he balled up into pillow-sizes and shoved them under Gabriel's increasingly feverish head. Dean stood back and looked at his handy-work. Only Gabriel's head poked out from under the mass of blankets. He looked like a tiny, sweaty caterpillar in a cocoon of discount fabrics. Satisfied, Dean went to the kitchen to pour Gabe a glass of water. A very big glass of water.

Without even protest as he was wrapped in the blankets, curling up and enjoying the warmth as much as possible, even despite his raising fever; eyes fluttered heavily again, dark circles surrounding his eyes, which were soon enough closed completely. With all lack of pride now, he huddled over, sniffling meekly, nose stuffed and running slightly, as he sneezed viciously repeatedly. Finally, he managed to find relief in sleeping: though actual sleep often caused him restless, simply /terrifying/ nightmares that not only prevented him from sleeping, but kept him from thinking straight, kept him fearing simply closing his eyes in general, he was peaceful. Even with that exhausted expression, very much needing the rest, hair plastered thickly to his skin, he looked close to ten years younger, burrowing deeper into the cloth. The illness refused to let down, however, taking advantage of his general lack of overall health; he was a pretty sickly guy to start with.

**Here is where TheMarauderBandit stopped writing. Everything past this point is just me by my lonesome.**

As Dean entered the room, glass of water in hand, he was about to apologize for not having any straws, but he shut his mouth when he saw that Gabriel had fallen asleep. He set the water down on the end-table and thought about what else he may need. He grabbed a dustbin from one of the bedrooms and put it next to the couch just in case Gabe woke up and upchucked his lunch all over the carpet. Lastly, Dean went to the bathroom and came back with a roll of toilet paper. They had no tissues in the house, so he figured this was the next best thing. He carefully rested the roll of toilet paper on top of the mountain of blankets. As an afterthought, he put a tentative hand to Gabe's sweaty forehead and winced at the tell-tale feeling of a fever gone out-of-control. Worriedly, he wiped the sweat off on his pants and bitterly accepted the fact that there was nothing else to be done for him right now. He was no doctor. He wasn't even a good student. But right now he /was/ one thing: hungry. There was no point in going back to class. He would have to leave in a couple of hours to bring Sammy home, but for now he had some free time and he was starving. Opening the fridge, he realized that he didn't have a lot to work with. What was good for sick people with attitude issues? Soup? Dean paused as he was suddenly struck by a very old memory, one he was surprised that he could even still recall. It was a memory of his mother. He would have been about four or five. He had come down with a terrible cold and he was miserable. His mom had made tomato soup with rice for him that time and every time he had gotten sick after that. Dean knew that it was probably just Cambell's tomato with some rice thrown in, but because she had made it for him it always seemed to taste like heaven in soup form. Looking back into the fridge and its meager contents, Dean frowned and sighed. "Soup it is." he muttered to himself, closing the fridge door and rifling through the cabinets in search of a can of tomato. Three cupboards later, he finally located his prize. Not only that, but he had found a box of minute-rice on the way. Dean had never made anything with rice in his life, but how hard could it be? He poured the soup into a saucepan and turned the heat to medium. It was really thick. And it surely wasn't enough for one person. Maybe it was past its expiration date? Frowning at the saucepan, he grabbed the discarded can at his side and decided that consulting the directions may be helpful at this point. "Hmp-" he grunted thoughtfully upon learning the fact that this soup required an extra can of water. He filled the can from the tap and poured it into the saucepan. Remembering the rice, he poured the contents of the box into the pan, swearing as the packet of dry flavoring fell in too. He fished it out with his fingers and threw it in the garbage. He stirred the soup impatiently and waited for it to get hot, wondering just what to do if Gabe's fever didn't go down soon.

After what seemed like hours, the soup was finally... Dean didn't know if "done" was exactly the right word to use here. The rice had swelled considerably as it cooked. It had absorbed all of the liquid in the soup and the confused teen was left with a saucepan of red, ricey glop. He turned it upside-down experimentally and frowned when the contents failed to be affected by gravity. He dug a spoon out of the drawer near him him and hesitantly tried a bite. It didn't actually _taste_ that bad, but the overly squishy consistency was enough to make him spit it back out into the sink. Leaving his creation on the stovetop, Dean grabbed his discarded jacket off the back of a chair and peeked into the living-room. Gabe was still sleeping. Dean checked his watch and saw that school would be dismissed soon and he would have to go get Sammy. He smiled to himself at the idea of killing two birds with one stone by picking up fast food on the way to get his brother. He gave one last apprehensive look at Gabriel, then turned on his heel and strode back through the kitchen to the front door, closing it softly behind him. Gabe was totally passed out from the looks of it. He would be fine. They would probably be back before he even woke up, Dean assured himself. As the engine of the impala roared to life, Dean started thinking of ways to explain to his brother why a random and very sick student was occupying their living-room couch and also where to get some new blankets, seeing as how the ones Gabe was using would probably need to be burned by the time this was all over. Dean still couldn't believe that Gabe had come to school in such terrible shape. He swallowed uneasily as he remembered what Gabe had said about his family. Memories of Gabe's frequently bruised face and constant haggard appearance in school flashed across Dean's mind, making his stomach tighten in anger. They sounded like grade A bad news. Dean resisted a small shudder at the thought of it and tried not to think about what would happen if _they_ eventually came knocking.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean chewed his burger thoughtfully as he waited for Sam to get out of class. He had stopped at Burger King on the way. A greasy bag holding a truckload of fries and another burger for Sammy sat patiently beside him in the passenger seat. Another bag containing cough drops, dayquil, aspirin, and a cheap plastic thermometer sat on the floor beside Dean's discarded burger wrapper. He had picked them up at the gas station across the street from the school. As Dean shoved the last bite into his mouth and started to reach for the fries, he tried to figure out exactly what to do with the sick junior now occupying their couch, other than shoving over-the-counter medication down his throat. The cough seemed like a good place to start. If they could get him to stop hacking up his lungs, maybe he would be able to heal. In truth, his fever was the most worrisome part of whatever illness Gabe had contracted. Once they got back, Dean would make it his first order of business to try and bring the fever down. The squeak of the car door opening jerked him from his thoughts. "Fast-food _again_, Dean?" moaned Sam, swinging into the passenger seat and peeking into the bag. Dean pointedly grabbed another handful of fries and started the engine. "Shut up. It's good for you. You've got all the main food groups there. Meat, bread... uh – vegetables?" he said, holding up a fry to justify his point. "See? The whole shebang. No complaints allowed." Sam just rolled his eyes and dismally searched through the pile of fries in the bag for the hamburger underneath them. "What's this stuff?" he asked, bending down to examine the contents of the bag from the gas station. Sam pulled out the thermometer and raised his eyebrows at Dean. "Are we preparing for some kind of a pharmacy strike?"

"Close, but no. I uh-" Dean struggled to find the best way to explain the situation back home. "Do you know Gabriel by any chance?"

"Gabriel Adamson? The junior?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, him." Dean replied rather blankly. He realized with a twinge of self-deprecating ignorance that he didn't actually know Gabe's last name. Well, now he did, but that was beside the point.

"He's in physics club with me, but he hardly ever comes anymore. What about him?" Sam asked, unwrapping his burger and taking a bite. _Physics club_? Dean snorted to himself. _What nerdy club doesn't that smug little snot belong to? _He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. "Well, he may be staying with us for a bit." he said lamely, trying too hard to keep his eyes focussed on the road in order to avoid looking at his brother. Sam stopped chewing and looked at Dean, curiosity painting his face. "Why?" Dean sighed. _Because I'm an idiot._ He thought about saying, but held himself back. "He's just not doing so well right now and I think he needs a break. He's really sick. Poor guy was going to drag himself to class when he could barely stand. It was pretty pathetic. I had to help him out." he explained, wondering why he suddenly sounded so defensive in his mind. Sam didn't mention it though as he absorbed the information, staring out the windshield at the road racing by.

"He's really that bad?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. I don't know what he's got, but it's nasty. He's like a snot factory." Sam grimaced briefly at the description.

"Why didn't you take him home?" Dean thought for a moment about how exactly to answer that question.

"I don't think home is the right place for him right now, Sammy."

"Why's that? Shouldn't his parents know that he's sick?" Dean winced inwardly at the mention of Gabe's family. Sam was four years younger than him, so Dean was not surprised that Sam didn't know about the Adamson family, seeing as how Gabriel was the youngest and therefore Sam wouldn't have had much experience with any of his siblings. But Dean had. The Adamsons were a notorious family among the upperclassmen of Lawrence High. They were all horrible bullies. The oldest, Michael, had terrified most of the senior class of two years ago. Dean had been a freshman at the time, but he had heard the stories. He held back a shudder as he remembered one of Michael's particularly monstrous feats. Michael had become upset when a senior from another school had stolen his chance at an athletics scholarship. Only one athletics scholarship in soccer was being awarded that year in their district. Michael and the other student both played on their respective schools' soccer teams. When the scholarship was awarded to this kid instead of _him_, Michael broke his leg. He didn't do it out in the open where it would have been obvious that it was him. No, Michael was too smart for that. He waited until the last match before the end of the season. Everybody at Lawrence knew that Michael had kicked the kid on purpose, but it looked like it could have been an accident. The field was soggy from the spring rain the night before. Michael "lost his footing" as he attempted to steal the pass and hit the kid instead. The refs fell for it, the spectators fell for it, even the kid probably fell for it too, it was so believable. The kid's leg was broken in two places. People who had seen the game said that his knee had buckled completely the wrong way. Injuries like that never heal correctly, not exactly. The kid had to go through a year of physical therapy before he could even walk right again. College soccer was out of the question. He would probably never play again. Since he was no longer eligible for his scholarship, they had no choice but to award it to the next runner-up in the district: Michael. As far as Dean knew, Michael was now attending Penn State with a full ride. _And good riddance_. Dean thought to himself with a scowl. However, as bad as Michael had been, his younger sister Lucy had been just as much of a terror.

Lucy had been one of the most popular girls in school, but exactly why Dean had never known. She was gorgeous, sure. Like an exotic snake. She drew people in with that beauty that dumb people just aren't able to resist. She was also the smoothest talker Dean had ever seen. Michael's junior by one year, she had manipulated her way to the head position of every organization she had ever joined. She was the top soprano of the school choir for years as well as the lead role in every single play. Lucy dominated every talent show, every beauty pageant, every debate meet. And she treated her "friends" like trash, using her popularity to humiliate and disown them if they ever displeased her. She never had a boyfriend for more than a week before getting bored and dumping him for a new one. There was never a shortage either. The entire football team was lined up to date her, gladly willing to break their hearts just for the chance to "be her man" for the week. She sweet-talked all of her teachers into giving her A's and she sweet-talked her way right into Stanford too, where she currently attended. _Also good riddance_. Dean mentally added to his thoughts.

The second youngest Adamson was Raphael. During his two-year attendance at Lawrence high, he had claimed the title of National Chess Champion each year. He decimated every test and had received a perfect score on his ACT and SAT. He rose up through the grades like a brainy hot-air balloon, graduating when he was only fifteen, summa cum laude. But he sure never aced any personality tests, that's for sure. Dean remembered that the guy barely spoke, as if anybody with an IQ lower than 150 was a waste of his breath. When he did talk, whatever he said wasn't very nice. Even though he was a nerd, nobody in the school ever tried to mess with him. They were either too intimidated or too creeped out. He never even had any friends, as far as Dean knew. _But who would want to be friends with a stuck up, conceited brainiac anyway? _Dean thought to himself. At any rate, the high and mighty Raphael was now pursuing medical school at Harvard, leaving only one Adamson still attending Lawrence High.

Dean realized that he kind of lucked out with having to share a grade with Gabriel, considering how his siblings had been. Gaberiel was by far the most normal of the Adamson siblings. Sure he had inherited a few elements of his siblings' personality traits, Michael's temper, Lucy's razor-edged silver tongue, and Raphael's brains, but other than that he was nothing like them. Gabe was quiet and kept to himself mostly. He even had a few friends. Nobody real close, of course, but they would catch movies together sometimes or pair up on partner projects. It wasn't Gabe's fault, really. He was a good kid once you got to know him, but the trouble was that lots of people didn't want to give him that chance. His siblings' reputations had preceded him and this naturally made people shy away from him before he could have a chance to say hello. It was a shame, really. Dean sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, turning back to Sam who was still waiting for an answer.

"Let's just say that his family doesn't seem to do very well in the area of TLC. He just needs somewhere quiet where he can rest up right now." Dean looked at his brother. "Okay?"

Sam silently turned the thermometer over in his hand absent-mindedly. "Okay." he said. A smiled lightly and turned back to the road, a Kwik-Trip catching his eye as they passed it. With a slightly guilty feeling he realized that they still had nothing for Gabe to eat at home. "Hey, Sammy," he began, reaching to pluck another fry from the bag and popping it in his mouth. "If you were really sick, what would you want to eat?"

"I dunno. Soup?"

"No, not that." Dean said quickly.

"Uh, well maybe something soft, easy to eat. Ice cream?" Dean grinned and pulled over to perform a U-turn.

"Ice cream! Yeah, that's awesome! Who doesn't like ice cream?" he said happily, rerouting towards the Kwik-Trip. "Time for a pit-stop."


End file.
